


Krycek Interlude 5

by WPAdmirer



Series: Chicago Stories II [15]
Category: E.R., X-Files - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-21
Updated: 2011-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-15 20:11:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WPAdmirer/pseuds/WPAdmirer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krycek listens in on John and Walter and gets what he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Krycek Interlude 5

**Author's Note:**

> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I got tired of waiting for some good John Carter slash, and there's never enough Skinner fic to suit me.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: It's not the author's intention to infringe upon or profit from the characters created and owned by Chris Carter, 1013 Productions or the Fox Network, nor Warner Brothers and NBC. Skinner and Carter were borrowed temporarily and returned almost immediately, relatively unharmed.
> 
> SPECIAL THANKS: To KiMeriKal and Crysothemis for beta reading and friendship.

It was amazing what a pain in the ass it was to try to check a golf bag and clubs when you didn't have any other luggage. The clerk at the ticket counter stared at Krycek like he'd asked to check a dead body. Apparently there was normally an extra fee for checking a golf bag, but since he didn't have any other luggage the clerk couldn't decide if he should charge Krycek or not. If it wouldn't have looked too suspicious, he'd have told him to forget it and left the clubs there at the counter and gone and gotten on his plane.

Finally he just offered to pay the fee. The clerk looked relieved and checked him in. Next time he got the inkling to steal something from a kill, he'd make sure it was small enough to carry on.

Back in D.C. he did feel a little silly picking up the clubs at the baggage claim. As he was standing with the clubs waiting for the shuttle bus to the parking lot it hit him how weird it was for a one-armed man to want a set of golf clubs. Well, hell, if nothing else, there was the sentimental value. He couldn't wait to get back to his cubby-hole and relax. He'd made a nice little nest in the basement of Skinner's building. It was rent-free, warm and dry, and no one knew he was there. He hadn't had that good a deal in a long time. The best thing about it was that even Spender didn't know it was there.

That was the great thing about big, efficient apartment buildings like Skinner's. Once they'd established their perimeters, security always assumed some things. In this case, they had continued to assume that a storage room was still filled with outdated equipment. When they opened the door and checked it they didn't even step in enough to realize that the room was substantially smaller than it had been before. One false wall, some pirated electricity, and jumpers going to the phone lines later, he'd had a nice comfy place to call his own.

Krycek went in through the parking garage, by-passing the security cameras that were in front of the elevators and heading straight into the basement through a door to which only he had the key.

He checked Skinner's phone first. No messages. Then Krycek called Skinner's office. His efficient personal assistant, Kim, was quick to confirm that the AD was in, but in a meeting at the moment. Krycek left no message.

He was hungry. All he'd eaten the day before was airline food and Powerbars. There was a great Vietnamese place not far from the apartment. Krycek checked his watch. Not quite time for them to be open. He flopped down onto his cot and pulled Edson's copies out of the envelope. Sure enough. There it was in the notes. The doctor had suspected Skinner was responsible for the beating that John Carter had endured.

It was too bad there wasn't some way he could use this material to frame John Carter for Edson's murder. The problem was doing it and keeping Skinner out of it. An outed Skinner was no good to him or the Consortium, and a dead Skinner would only piss Mulder off. Mulder might spend half his time not speaking to his boss, but if anything happened to him, Krycek knew that Mulder would act as though he'd lost his father surrogate.

The three copies of the letter of resignation would certainly point the police at Carter, but once Carter was implicated, Skinner would come dashing in and save him. He should have killed Carter when he had the chance. That was becoming Krycek's mantra, and it really pissed him off. He pushed the folder and the envelope off the cot and stretched out. Maybe he'd just sleep until it was time for the restaurant to open. He'd think more clearly once he'd had some sleep and eaten a good meal.  
***

"Hey, babe," John Carter's sweet tenor voice rang out in the room.

Krycek sat up on the bed. The recorder had kicked in the minute John Carter had answered Skinner's call.

"You knew it was me." Skinner's voice sounded deeper than normal.

"My cock got hard when I heard the phone ring."

"Oh, Jesus!" Krycek felt the bile rise in his throat. Phone sex. Fucking phone sex.

"My cock's missing all your sweet, hot holes."

"I wish you were here. I'd take your pole deep, babe. I'd suck you 'til you were about to blow…"

"Then just before I did, I'd turn you around and shove my fuck tool into you so deep, you'd think it was back in your throat."

Krycek's groan echoed John Carter's, but for a completely different reason.

"I've spent all day thinking about your man-meat. I need fucking bad. I'm all empty, and my ass needs filling."

"I'd fill you up. I'd fill you so full of cum you'd taste it. You love the taste of my cum, don't you?"

"I crave the taste of your cum. It's thick, and rich. But more than that I love the taste of you. I want to bury my nose in your ass and fill my mouth with that flavor that's all you."

Now Krycek knew he was going to lose the really good Vietnamese dinner he'd eaten. What the fuck had gotten into Skinner? They'd never talked like this before? This was like some…bad…porno…FUCK.

"You can start at my toes and use that talented mouth of yours to lick and suck me all the way up. You can tongue-bathe me, clean my ass, my balls, my cock. I want your nose buried in my pubes while I get my cockhead all shiny in your throat." They knew. The fuckers knew he was listening.

"God, I'm going to blow, Daddy. Your boy's going to blow his wad just thinking about that big old fuck-tube taking me at both ends, filling me up with your cum, making me eat your ass and your cum."

They never talked like this. Even during their fucking phone sex Carter never referred to a dick as anything other than a penis. The bastards!

"That's it, boy, make Daddy proud. Come really hard for Daddy, let him hear it."

Krycek picked up the headset and cut into the phone line.

"Fuck you, too, Skinner." Then he cut the connection.

Damnit. Fucking bastard. Damnit it all to fucking hell. He really should've killed John Carter when he had the chance.


End file.
